


how every place feels like hiding

by dallisons



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Banter, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-12 21:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12968871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dallisons/pseuds/dallisons
Summary: He sounds skeptical even when he tries to humor her. Still, she appreciates the unusual amount of effort. It must be herculean on his part.





	how every place feels like hiding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LillyRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillyRose/gifts).



> I hope this makes you happy and happy holidays to you! I had the idea and it wouldn't leave my head after listening to the finale of the show, because I wanted so badly to see how things worked out, so here's my most hopeful version.

When Alex wakes up, her teeth still taste like wine, bitter and lovely and a little bit awful, too. She feels her heart begin to pound a half-second before she remembers the events that took place, each in excruciating detail. Maybe she wants to forget it, but more than that, she wants to imprint each feeling in her skin, to remember what it felt like just to be  _close._ She and Richard were close for longer than they wanted to admit. But there's something in the feel of his hair against her palm, in the way he kissed her like she was a question he wanted to answer but still didn't know how.

She wonders if they'll ever understand each other. She hopes not.

His arm is still over her torso, and it would be nice if she could stay. Sink into the mattress like she was weightless, just forget about everything and drive to the airport together, as two who share closeness are apt to do. But that's not her style. Instead, she slides from beneath it, and it's a wonder he doesn't wake up. Alex had always figured him for more observant than that.

She dresses with quiet steadiness, two airplane tickets in her bag and determination in the set of her shoulders. She meant what she said last night, even after everything else. An offering, a chance for them to get something right for once. There's terror between every breath she takes, not for herself, but for him, and what did she tell Nic about being objective?

It's ridiculous, the things she can get hung up on. 

Alex shuts the door with a click, a scribbled note left on the table for when Richard wakes. The dawn light hasn't quite turned into full daylight yet, but it's the longest she's slept in a while, so she'll take it. She'll take anything she can get her hands on when it comes to her body and sleep, these days. Birds chirp outside and for a second, everything actually seems  _hopeful._ Between the apocalypse and demons and ghosts, when has she had time to find the hope in things? 

Her palm curls into a fist inside her jacket pocket, the ticket in her purse burning a hole through the recycled material. It's out of her hands, now. She just hopes she can follow through with the promise of her own. To follow him, even when he makes the wrong call.  

She wants to trust. 

* * *

The flight Strand and Ruby had booked is scheduled to leave SEA-TAC at 5:12pm. The one Alex booked leaves within minutes of that one, her plan as calculated as she can get it for one made in just a few hours. They're always working off of far too little information, and Nic had been right - it wasn't the most objective, journalistic decision she'd ever made.  

But sometimes it isn't about a code, or a degree or a job. Hell, those things hadn't helped her against Thomas Warren, hadn't armed her better to read between the lines. Sometimes she feels like she's been looking at everything with blinders on.  _Oh, God,_ the worst parts of herself say as she stands in line at security,  _what am I doing?_  

SEA-TAC is always miserable, but particularly so during the early afternoon. She's never bothered to research whose terrible idea it was _not_ to build a second international airport in the state of Washington, but no matter how many cute fish sculptures they put in the floor, nothing eases the mind-numbing boredom of waiting in security. Alex wonders if Strand showed up even earlier than she did, as she can't find his tall frame in the crowd, before glowering to herself in realization. That man  _definitely_ purchased TSA Pre-Check.  

The rest of her time spent in line is largely taken up by grumbling, but the nerves regain their footing as she makes her way to the podium. Out from her pocket slips the ticket to Geneva, and it's on purpose, just in case anyone's monitoring this sort of thing. She doesn't really know how far the rabbit hole goes, even now. Maybe Thomas Warren owns SEA-TAC airport through ten different shell corporations. She's certainly not brave enough to try and research that on her phone. Alex has a lot of nerve, but she's burning out, and any additional stressors might tip the scales. 

Instead, she takes a deep breath and thanks the woman who stamps her ticket. She gets her shoes off and her laptop in a separate little tray and wonders at how normal it all is. You'd think running from supposed demonic entities would be more thrilling. 

It's when all the scans are done and she has her left shoe on, hopping around to get the right one around her heel, that she hears him. That low, familiar chuckle that can make her angrier than anything even as her toes curl in her shoes. She manages to get the damn thing on before whipping around, slinging her bag over her shoulder with no small amount of irritation. "Alex." He states her name like fact, and a  _zing!_ travels all the way up her body. 

"Strand." She reverts to his last name in irritation, but upon seeing him, a little bit unkempt as he takes her in, her eyes soften. She wonders if maybe she tired him out enough to sleep in, and the thrill of possibility settles around her shoulders like a warm hug. Any less-than-savory possibilities as to why he could be running late are ones she refuses to consider.  

Looking around, she doesn't spot Ruby anywhere, which is when Alex begins to hope. "Do you know which gate we're going to?" she asks, all coyness and a little bit of cockiness to boot. She wants to believe this covers her anxiety, but Strand has never much bought into the  _image_ she projects. Even at the beginning, he knew she was hungrier for this story than she'd ever wanted to admit. And still, he let her in - he's always letting her in.  

He raises an eyebrow in her direction. Huffs that little not-quite-laugh she sometimes only catches on the audio after they're done recording. She often thinks the listeners are missing out, on the little dimple he has, so at odds with his gruff demeanor. Then again, based on his fan-mail, they know all too well they're missing something there. For every picture of him out online, there's 500 comments asking for more. 

Greedy and adoring. Alex wishes she didn't know how that felt. 

"I do. Shouldn't you?" 

Again, that little morsel of hope. "You're running the show, Richard." She takes a step forward, and if she moved any closer, they'd be touching toes. It feels intimate somehow, despite how close they'd really become the night before. "No microphones, no pocket recorder, no Nic waiting around the corner." She lifts her shirt with a half-smile, watching his face for that twitch of appreciation he's still trying to hide. "You can check me for a wire." 

Strand catches her hand, pulling it down her body and taking her tee with it. Alex feels ridiculous, but her heart is pounding. His knuckles brush her ribs and she sucks in a breath, too sharp for the mood she's trying to cultivate. The man catches her off guard. 

"I'd like to think I can trust you, Alex." But then his mouth quirks a little and she knows she's got him. "But just in case..." He slides a hand down her spine, verifying that nothing they say is being recorded. At least, not by her. 

A wave of nausea hits her as she looks around, trying to find anyone who seems suspicious. Everyone seems normal, but who knows? She hasn't done a very good job judging those things in the past. Strand catches the shift in her mood and follows her gaze, growing serious to match. "Getting any... weird feelings?" 

He sounds skeptical even when he tries to humor her. Still, she appreciates the unusual amount of effort. It must be herculean on his part. 

"Maybe the heebie-jeebies?" She says it in a sheepish way, and he huffs at her again. That might be her favorite laugh of his, apart from the full-bodied one she's never seen but refuses to give up on. He mumbles 'heebie-jeebies' under his breath in a way that makes her want to push him into the foot-traffic at his back, but she's feeling strangely protective of him. Something about knowing that entire conspiracy centers on his presence has Alex wanting to put him in a box where nothing can touch him.  

"Alright," he says, "Let's head out." Strand is decisive as he straightens and grabs his bag. It's a charcoal grey with black accents, uniform and business-like. Alex watches the floral ID tag swing against her zipper as she moves with Strand, the back of it proudly stating that it's made out of 100% recycled material. It seems like so little for a trip that, if things go the way she wants, she may never come back from. Not for a good long while, anyway.

Alex lets herself be moved by Strand's gravitas, to this day amazed at the pull he has on people. She remembers all the supernaturalists that dropped his name, when she was still doing her original story, not yet having met the man in the flesh. Even when they hated him, they couldn't stop talking about him. Now she finds her own tongue tripping over itself to sound out his name, which seems embarrassing before she remembers the way he ducked his smile into his wineglass last night. 

Strand has feelings, even if no one believes her. He hides them a lot better than she does. 

Alex's journalistic integrity doesn't mean she can't use her skills to ferret them out once and a while. 

She has to get close to jogging to match his stride, but over the course of their time together, she's gotten used to that. Strand never slows for her and she wouldn't want him to. She  _does_ nearly trip over his bag, but she catches herself, watching as the corners of his eyes wrinkle in amusement. "Not my fault you've got a foot on me and I don't know the gate," she grumbles, tugging her bag up before it falls off her shoulder.

Strand slides a boarding pass from his inner coat pocket, waving it a moment before putting it back. She doesn't quite catch the destination. Or maybe it's that she doesn't want to. After all, it's possible she could read her own ticket and figure out where they're going before they get there, but the butterflies in her stomach won't allow her any extra movement. She doesn't want to be right on this one. Or wrong, or anything at all. "You have one of these," he points out, and she grins, almost manic with it. 

"I like surprises. Don't you?"

Strand shrugs. "I've wanted to be surprised more than it's actually happened. Things are rarely surprising when you see the world through a more rational lens."

Alex makes a derisive sound. Strand smiles.

"Not everything has to be about rationality. A surprise party can just be a surprise party, you know. In fact - " Alex's voice shuts off as Strand turns off, heading toward two of the few empty seats in the area. The gate is filled with people, most of them in board shorts and floppy hats. It makes her throat dry up, her palms itching as she resists the urge to look at the sign.

Strand wheels his bag up to a seat before turning around, walking back to where she's dead-stopped in pedestrian traffic.

"Are you coming?" he asks, entirely nonchalant. Then again, is Strand ever particularly up in arms about something? It's happened more and more since they got close to Cora Lee and in the aftermath of finding her, but it's still a rare thing. 

Alex opens her mouth and nothing comes out.

"This... is the right ticket, isn't it?" He turns and stares at the sign before looking back at her. "Almost thought I took us to Geneva by mistake."

She steps forward, ignoring everything he's saying - something about how when people are happy with a surprise, they usually react better than this - and reaching up to catch his face in her hands, standing on her tip toes and kissing him (in front of strangers and lurking demons alike). He doesn't shy away from the contact, not like she expects, instead catching her waist and leaning into it. He's surprised her in a thousand ways over their time together, but nothing as good as this.

"This is the first time in my life I've ever been this happy to be wrong," Alex admits. "Don't get used to it."

Strand gives her his worst smile. 

(They run away.)


End file.
